


Long May He Reign

by Red17



Series: Rue Amell [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red17/pseuds/Red17





	Long May He Reign

“The mages need support,” she yelled, or rather tried to, she heard her voice weaken as she pointed to their perch on the rubble. The sigil on the soldier’s shield was no longer distinct, obscured by blood and dirt. Fires burned over Denerim, what did banners matter? Rue relayed instructions to dwarves and elves, orders they probably would have questioned had they not been felt so defeated. Not one of the generals had predicted the numbers the Archdemon had at its disposal. The alliances forged through blood, determination and fortune in the last few months counted for nothing. The Blight had to come to them and they were outmatched.

 She limped back to Alistair as her troops scattered. He was where she left him, slumped against the tunnel gate to the city. _So much blood_ she thought, she could no longer tell where it came fomm or if it was even his. His breathing was shallow and desperate as he grasped at consciousness. Rue drew level with him and ripped a piece of cloth from her sleeve. She started to dab at his bloodied face.

“A little pointless now don’t you think?” He said shifting slightly and grunting with the pain of it.

“A King has to look presentable,” she said back, forcing herself to smile. Tears streaked down her face, washing away some of the blood from an as yet unnoticed injury. His leg bent at an impossible angle, she couldn’t move him again. Getting him this far from the melee had been difficult enough. She wasn’t in peak condition herself but she thought she could help, she thought she could save him. She realised now that she was mistaken. He flinched as she scrubbed at a bruise under his eye.

“Sorry, I thought it was dirt,”

He sighed in response and turned his head. His vision was fading but he could see the light from the fire and feel the heat of it.  He could smell the flesh burning, the darkspawn had a different smell to the humans, more acidic. He wondered if it had been like this at Ostagar and for the briefest moment was glad he hadn’t been on the battlefield. The last of the Wardens had grossly underestimated their enemy and now they paid the price.

“This isn’t the best start to my reign,” he said.

“We can rebuild everything,” she stared at his wounds. Her expression told him that he didn’t have time or strength to stand up, much less rebuild the capital. She was a good liar, why did she have to lose that gift now? Maybe she was as talented as she had ever been but after everything he knew her too well.

“We? Do you think Eammon’s going to let you anywhere near-” He cut himself off with a groan.

“Settle, Alistair,” she said sternly.

“Are you worried about me?” He asked, his lips curving into a weak smile.

“Of course not,” As far as he could tell she was looking at his forehead, he suddenly became aware of a trickling sensation.

“I can still fight, you know,” he tried to move his leg, and succeeded only in hurting himself. He was lying and he knew it. His body was giving up but he would not spend his last moments with her dwelling on it.

“I know,” she said pausing, biting down on her lip. He willed her to keep it together.

_Please don’t fall apart now. I’ve failed, you’re not allowed to._

“- but I think you earned a rest,” she continued. He was proud for a moment, she was almost convincing.

“Hmm,” he was losing focus, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. They were quiet for a moment before Rue sensed them. The whispering grew louder. Those persistent bastards, how dare they do this.

“Not now,” she hissed. She got to her feet as the Darkspawn stormed the gate. Alistair felt a change in the air as she charged the spell. She held back and waited a few moments as the horde advanced. Her hands swept forward and with a yell, she unleashed all her anger. All the pain and bitterness became ice, shards and icicles, travelling at high velocity towards the enemy and shredding them. She would hurt them. She would make them feel every morning she would now wake without him there, every morning she wouldn’t get to see his dishevelled hair and sleepy grin. She would make them feel every stupid joke, every giggle, every kiss, every light touch that came so easily but was so _important_. She hoped they could somehow sense the joy, the comfort and the safety he had given her before their ungodly impulse ripped it from her. They would feel every iota of what they had taken. Those mindless beasts would understand what they had done. They would empathise with her. Then she would annihilate them.

Rue wanted to think she had succeeded but she was more likely satisfied with the pain she had inflicted. Those not impaled were frozen solid in the blast, grotesque ice sculptures with contorted faces. Eammon had talked about getting sculptures for Alistair’s coronation, this probably wasn’t what he had in mind. She drew a ragged breath and clutched her side before raising her staff and lowering it. They fragmented. She looked at the destruction she had wrought, the frozen limbs, separated from the bodies but still mostly intact, the impaled creatures who groaned as they died and thought only that it wasn’t enough. She threw her staff to the side and knelt in front of Alistair, they both shivered.

“Rue,”

He put his bloody hand on her neck and she returned the gesture, placing her cold hand over her his.

“I’m cold now,” his lips were blue and trembling. He seemed to be laughing.

“Sorry about that,” she stammered back.

“Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?” his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes closed.

“Someone may have mentioned it,” she said. They both shivered and fell silent for a moment. _He’s slipping away._

“Hey Alistair,” she placed a hand on his shoulder, she wasn’t ready, not quite yet “Alistair?” She shook him a little, he made a soft groaning sound. What should she say? I love you? It didn’t seem like enough. It seemed like goodbye and neither of them wanted to acknowledge the imminent and permanent separation.

“Do you remember the first morning we woke up together?”

He opened his eyes and tried to focus on her.

“…And I’d had that dream and it was the worst one since the joining,” she tried so hard to keep her voice level but she was failing.

He knitted his brows together unsure of where she was going with this.

“I was so scared. I thought I was losing my mind. But you were there. You didn’t lie to me. You didn’t say that it would stop, that I’d be fine as soon as the blight was over. You just held me and told me that you loved me and that you were going to be here,”

He looked at her realising what she meant. They were going to say goodbye now. They had to or maybe she had to or maybe it was for him. They had often struggled to be straightforward.

“Rue, I need to thank you,”

“Thank me?” she was a little disheartened despite the enormous amount of effort it now took for him to speak.

“Yes, because I love you. More than I thought possible and,” He struggled for breath “I’m sorry I’ve let you down,”

“No, no don’t you dare,” she said holding his face in her hands. “Alistair you’ve let nobody down, do you understand me? Whatever happens now, it’s not your fault. We did all we could.”

He made a small motion which seemed like nodding and fell silent. He needs to say more. Maker, he has so much to say to her. All he can manage is a thought.  It’s hazy and muddled, but he understands three things, the first is Duncan correcting his stance in training. It was late in the day and the new recruit was bored and hungry. His posture had become lazy. Despite being about as bored as he was, Duncan had cuffed him on the back of the head and told him a warden couldn’t make such a mistake. He imagines Rue, limping away from his broken body towards the top of Fort Drakon where the Archdemon now rested. Then he sees clutching her stomach, unable to stop herself laughing, telling him through tears that that joke was terrible and he should be ashamed. He feels an echo of the pride he had felt then and within seconds, everything faded.

“Alistair?” she whispered, knowing it mattered little how loudly she spoke. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and picked up her staff. She called to some dwarves and told them to guard his body.

“Don’t let them take him,” Her voice was flat and empty. Her eyes fixed on him. “If you cannot defend him, burn him.” They looked at each other, bemused and horrified. Possibly on the brink of disobedience but she left before they could argue with her. If they were going to leave their post she would prefer not to know. Rue set her sights on Fort Drakon and plotted her course. She was going to end this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
